Time of the month
by The AntiCoolant
Summary: A look into the reason behind Inuyasha's hatred for his time of the month...and his brother. slightly angsty rated T for teen because it's not very graphic... I think


_This_ little beasty popped up on me in the middle of reading! I couldn't hold it off once it got it's beastly little fangs into me so here ya go.

I don't own Inuyasha, and I'm sure he thanks god for that every day.

Rated T because it doesn't get much into detail

I hated him for it. No matter where I hid, he would _always _find me. It didn't matter how fast I ran, didn't matter how badly my lungs burned or my legs ached, or how badly I wished that it was _not tonight _he was always there, appearing in front of me as if he had been waiting for me; _his _fucking demeanor never tarnished, never tired, never out of breath.

No matter how hard I fight, he always gets his way. I _hate _him for it. Biting, clawing, punching, kicking, and cursing him, his entire fucking existence. It only gets me so far and he always gets his way, but I never scream; he would enjoy that as well, wouldn't mind if the rest of my companions heard and came to my rescue because, really, what could they do? As much as I loathe to admit it, he could swat them away like flies. Then he would have them watch, let them see as he took me apart, piece by piece until they couldn't recognize me anymore, until _I_ couldn't recognize me anymore.

No, I keep quiet, even as my weak body fails me and I collapse under his strength. I keep my cries silent, biting my tongue to the sensations running through me, keeping my pain silent even as he kisses my tears away, not even letting me keep those. Instead he turns them into shame, whispering how much he knows I enjoy these _sick _encounters, how, soon I would be crying for _him_.

My relatively hard muscles squirm under his iron clad grip. I'm fairly strong, but not strong enough for _him _or _his kind_, and I hate myself for it. If I wasn't a half breed this would never happen, he even claims this himself. His grip is gentle, something I hadn't thought he was capable of before he had discovered my one weakness. He handles me like he would glass, peeling my clothes off like a patient lover, whispering false reassurances in that mocking tone, not wanting me to break _just yet. _

I hate how my courage and pride shrink in the cold night air, its sting upon my bare torso making me quake in fear, it's happening again and all I can do is beg, for just this one night, for him to find someone else for just this night. His amber eyes glint in the full moon's light, the picture of amusement as he watches me beg as desperately as I did the first time he took advantage of me. I want to scream, my throat aches for it but I can't risk it, they can't see me like this when I can't even stand to _be_ like this.

I hate how he methodically keeps to the same routine. He moves torturously slow, enjoying my squirms and cries as I wait with dreaded certainty of his every move. I don't remember what I keened, but his lips are on my neck whispering gently that he can hear someone waking and I hush down into subdued sobs. His tongue is like fire in the cold night air, it's almost painfully hot as it rakes down my stomach and twists my gut with bile even as warmth slithers down below.

He leans up with a humored chuckle and slowly licks the shell of my ear, whispering disgusting promises that makes me writhe in equal revulsion and anticipation. I can't remember when the night air became so hot, or when the sounds of the night quieted ominously but his damned tongue commands my full attention once again. Words are whispered in lusty huffs, words that sound dangerously similar to _love. _And it _hurts_.

He knows that, that's why he says it. Once, when I was younger I wanted him to see me that way, as a brother or even as another sentient being. I had wanted his attention, for him to acknowledge my existence. They died a long time ago along with that naive child that thought that family actually meant something. He draws the word like a dagger, rending at those remains of me that still wanted his affection. Now all I want is for him to die.

I feel his lips against my neck, his clawed thumb rubbing the lobe of my ear. He states he prefers this side of me, and even in my haze of lust I spit curses at him in anger. In response he simply grips me harder in his other hand and pulls me under the damning rush of pleasure once more. I wish I couldn't remember any of those nights, every detail, every time my need excels my anger, my disgust, my pride, my fear, and I _need him_.

My weak human mind cannot take the exertion of my struggles and his night long ministrations. He pushes me over the edge more times than I can remember, his seed already burning multiple times inside me. When I try to drift off into unconsciousness he forces another rise out of my abused body and keeps me there, a cruel trick to keep me awake, reducing the tattered remains of my will to ash, and I beg shamelessly for release. He draws these moments out, makes sure that I will remember them, even when his touch is long gone.

He never stops until the brink of dawn; the last vestiges of my orgasm rock my frail form as he looks down his nose at me and night begins it's retreat, finally signaling the end of his torture. The light of the sun barely touches the night sky, bringing out his usual stoic mask, he calmly cloths himself and is gone. When the gold streaks finally stream up and my senses enhance, my strength returns, and my hair bleeds white I can still smell him. He's everywhere, even inside me; no amount of cold river water can drive his sickening claim off me.

I hate him, even when my body craves his touch, even as I still hear his words of love ringing in my ears, even when I watch for him every night afterwards. I hate him, but not as much as I hate myself, for the small twisted part of me that still loves him.

…

And that's a wrap. Whew! I'm glad I got this off my chest, it's been bothering me for hours, I might write something else that's similar if I ever have time. Not exactly sure what I was getting across with this but enjoy!

Also I'm sorry to those of you reading unexpected! I'm a little…alright I'm really stuck on that


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